


Let's Start the New Year Right

by engmaresh



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: K/S Advent Calendar, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:50:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/pseuds/engmaresh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Spock celebrate a (somewhat) quiet new year.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“I do have plans for today.”</i><br/>“Do they involve staying in bed with me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Start the New Year Right

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [K/S Advent 2013](http://ksadvent.livejournal.com//) over at LJ.  
> Many thanks to beta and enabler, triplexpoint.  
> Title from Bing Crosby's song of the same name.

“Jim!”

He’s leaning against a wall in Rec Room 1, nursing a cup of undoctored eggnog, when Bones lurches up to him and bellows in his ear. Jim winces, but reaches out and reels his unsteady friend in with a hand around his waist.

“Jim!” Bones yells again, a few decibels lower this time as he slings his free arm around Jim’s shoulder. “Great party!” With his other hand, he gestures at the throng of people gyrating on the dance floor, spilling half his drink in the process.

Jim carefully plucks the half empty glass from his friend’s hand and sets it down in a conveniently nearby alcove. Now that he’s got both hands free, Bones takes the opportunity to latch onto Jim like a particularly snuggly octopus.

“Whatcha doin’ here, Jim?” he mumbles, burrowing his face into Jim’s shoulder. “You should be joining in the fest-festivities.”

“I’m chaperoning, remember?” Jim says as he takes a few steps back to compensate for Bones’ drunken weight. “Making sure sad sacks like you have a good time without killing yourselves.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bones grunts.

Jim grins, though Bones can’t see it, and pats his friend on the soothingly on the back. “You’re having fun though, aren’t you?”

“I was,” growls Bones, “until Carol out-drank me.”

Jim laughs, and Bones gives him a grumpy little shake. “’S’not funny. She’s fucking tiny, it shouldn’t be possible.”

“Don’t let Carol hear you say that. Where’s she anyway?”

“Dance-dancing with Sulu and ‘hura.” Bones blindly throws out an arm, gesturing at the room in general. “Over th-there, somewhere.”

The music switches to something slower. The dancing mass of people change their pace, most of them splitting up into pairs, trios or more to sway to the downtempo rhythm.

Jim soon finds himself swaying along, arms around Bones’ waist while his friend snuffles into his shoulder. With the crowd in the room breaking up a little, he catches sight of Spock on the other side of the room. Upon meeting his gaze, the Vulcan raises an eyebrow. Jim grins and gives him a thumbs-up.

“Stop making eyes at the hobgoblin,” Bones mutters.

“How d’you know it’s him?”

“’s my ‘Jim sense’. ‘S’tinglin’.”

“Okay,” says Jim, hoisting Bones to a more comfortable position against his shoulder. “Time for you to go to bed.”

“Ugh,” Bones mutters, but offers no resistance as Jim maneuvers him out the nearest door and down the quiet corridors.

“’s’not my room,” Bones observes once Jim has dumped him on the bed.

“Nope. It’s mine,” Jim admits as he pulls of his friend’s boots.

“Awww, d’you miss me?”

“You? Never.”

“‘sshole. What ‘bout you?”

“I’ll be with Spock next door. I’ll leave the bathroom door unlocked, so call if you need anything.”

“All ri’h’,” Bones mumbles. Jim ends up in a brief battle with Bones’ uniform as he tries to wrestle the blue shirt off Bone’s head while the doctor’s arms flop around uselessly. Finally he tosses the troublesome garment to the floor and pulls the blankets up around the older man’s shoulders.

“You get some sleep now.”

He’s about to step away when Bones grabs his hand. “You’re all right, kid, y’know? You’re all right.”

Jim pats him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Bones. So are you. Now sleep.”

 

* * *

 

“Jim.”

“Mmmm?”

“If you would kindly release me so that I may get out of bed?”

“Mmm, nope,” Jim mumbles, tightening his hold on his first officer’s waist. “You don’t get to leave this early. Not today.”

“I would like to meditate.”

“Five more minutes.”

Strong hands take hold of his and pry them away. Jim whines and snatches at Spock’s pajamas but all the Vulcan does is turn around so that he’s facing Jim.

“You are aware that if I stay, we will end up spending the entire morning in bed.”

“That’s the point,” Jim insists, and wriggles forward so that he can wind his arms around Spock again. “We’re supposed to sleep in today.”

“Very well,” acquiesces Spock, and settles down again. Sheets rustle and a brief draft washes over Jim’s skin as Spock readjusts the blankets. Hot as it is in Spock’s room, Jim usually sleeps without any coverings but he’s acclimatized enough to the temperature by now that he can stand a few hours under a thin sheet.

“I do have plans for today.”

“Mmmm?” hums Jim as he absently starts to stroke Spock’s eyebrows. “Do they involve staying in bed with me?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Jim attempts a pout, but it turns into a grin as Spock’s forehead furrows in confusion. He keeps petting the Vulcan’s slanted brows.

“It would be… messy.” An abruptly raised eyebrow nearly dislodges Jim’s finger but recovers quickly enough to follow the movement. There’s a look on Spock’s face, one Jim recognizes as his Patron-Saint-of–Patience look. “Jim, what are you doing?”

“Messy, hmmm?” Jim murmurs, ignoring the question. When Spock finally succumbs to irritation and bats his hands away, he moves his ministrations to the Vulcan’s ears.

Spock’s next “Jim,” is punctuated by a breathy growl as a full-body shudder runs through his first officer.

Jim smirks. “We can totally get messy in bed.” Then he leans forwards and nips a green-tinged earlobe.

This time Spock growls in earnest and Jim finds himself pinned under one-hundred-and-eighty pounds of lean Vulcan muscle. “I will hold you to that,” Spock breathes in his ear, and now it’s Jim turn to shudder.

They kiss, both the Human and Vulcan way, Spock pinning Jim to the bed with both his hands and his mouth. Jim kicks away the restrictive blankets and wraps his legs around Spock’s hips, thrusting up into the Spock’s answering hardness.

“Pants off,” he gasps when Spock finally breaks the kiss. He’s only wearing boxers, so while Spock steps off the bed to rid himself his t-shirt and sweats, Jim quickly shimmies out of them and grabs the lube from the bedside drawer.

He hisses a little at the stretch of two slick fingers pushing up into him. It’s been a while since they’ve done this. Too many responsibilities, too little time. After a month or so without penetration, two fingers to start with may have been a little ambitious. With more lube to slick the way, the burns starts to ease and Jim’s eyes flutter shut when he crooks his fingers and finds his prostate.

The bed dips under his knees and Jim opens his eyes again to Spock right up in his face, pupils black with lust. His first officer plucks the lube from his lax fingers, and soon a third finger presses into him next to his own.

“Oh, fuck,” Jim swears, and has to grab onto Spock’s shoulders to keep from falling. He slips his own fingers out just as Spock adds two of his own, and concentrates fully on keeping his knees from buckling as those three long digits unerringly massage his prostate.

“Spock,” he moans, digging his nails into the Vulcan’s shoulders, “keep that up and – oh god – I’ll come before the fun’s even started.”

In response, Spock removes his fingers fast enough that Jim gasps at the sudden loss, then there are two strong hands on his waist, gently but firmly maneuvering him onto his hands and knees.

Jim bites into his fist as Spock lines himself up, but can’t hold back the low keen that escapes him as Spock pushes in.

Finally buried to the hilt, Spock sighs and plants a kiss on the nape of Jim’s neck, slowly working his way down the knobs of his spine.

Jim’s keen turns into a whine. “For fuck’s sake, move!” he demands, thrusting his hips back against Spock.

“Patience,” Spock orders and smacks him on the ass, once on each cheek. Jim’s cock jumps against his stomach and his bites into a pillow to muffle his groan.

Slowly, torturously, Spock pulls out almost to the tip, then slams back in hard enough that Jim slides a few inches up the bed. His digs his fingers and toes into the sheets to stabilize himself, even as Spock pistons forward with punishing thrusts that brush his prostate on every other pass.

“You fucking tease,” Jim groans at one point, and reaches for his cock only to have his arm yanked behind his back.

“Patience,” Spock growls again, but picks up his pace. With one hand behind his back, Jim can’t get enough traction to brace against Spock’s thrusts and his other arm folds under him, sending his chest flat to the mattress. The new angle makes him scream. Spock doesn’t stop, keeps thrusting, and Jim soon finds himself whiting out with the force of his orgasm.

He comes to with Spock biting his neck, the Vulcan shuddering quietly through his own orgasm.

Jim groans when Spock pulls out and manages to avoid lying down in his own come as his knees buckle under him. “Fuck, I’ll feel that for a week,” he mumbles before he pulls Spock down to mash their lips together. When they part, he reaches down to pull the blankets up again, and only protests feebly when Spock briefly rolls away to reach for the wipes he keeps just for this.

Jim hums contently as Spock runs the wipe down between his thighs and cheeks and wipes away most of the mess from the sheets. “Y’know,” he says, as he watches Spock walk to the bathroom, “you never did tell me what your plans were.”

“You never asked.”

“I did.”

“You only asked me whether they involved staying in bed with you.”

“Don’t you sass me, Commander.”

Spock only gives him an insolently raised eyebrow, and steps into the sonic shower. With the door open, Jim catches several tantalizing glimpses of his naked first officer but once Spock steps out of the shower, watching him brush his teeth or take a piss just isn't very exciting, even if he’s naked. Jim drifts into a doze, tracing abstract patterns on the empty space next to him.

He hardly notices Spock stepping out of the shower and putting on his sexy, sexy meditation robes – sexy because Jim knows that Spock never wears anything under them.

He falls asleep watching Spock meditate, the smell of incense filling the room.

When he wakes up, there’s a note on Spock’s PADD, lying on the pillow next to his head.

_Meet me on the observation deck at twelve-hundred hours._

It’s already eleven thirty. “Shit,” Jim mutters, throwing off the blankets. He quickly gathers up the dirty sheets and stuffs them into the recycler, then dashes for the shower.

When he hurries over to his room for a change of clothes, the bed is empty and done up neatly. There is a note scribbled on his PADD. _Thank you for keeping me from drowning in my own puke, only to subject me to your traumatizing sex noises. You scream like a porn star. Lucky for me, Sulu now owes me a hundred credits._

Jim smirks and pulls on his pants.

 

* * *

 

“A picnic?”

A red-and-white checkered blanket is spread out on the floor of the observation deck. Spock is unpacking an honest-to-God wicker basket, neatly arranging little dishes of artfully presented food.

“Wow. Who did you have to glare at menacingly to get all this?”

Spock gives him a raised eyebrow. “If one asks politely and ahead of time, the galley staff is more than happy to cater to requests. Like everyone on this ship, they enjoy a challenge.”

“You did give them–”

“Yes, Jim. Chef Hassan actually showed me a framed copy of your list of allergies. They have it hanging right next to the certificate of compliance.”

“Damn,” mutters Jim. “Bones totally put them up to that, didn’t he?”

“That is entirely within the realm of possibility. Please, sit down.”

Grinning, Jim takes his place on the other side of the blanket. Most of the food looks like vegetarian sushi, and there’s also some of the fresh fruit they’d picked up from Risa last week and a dish full of little cakes.

“You can open this,” says Spock. Jim looks up from the feast set before him and accepts the bottle and opener that his first officer hands him.

“Chateau La Barre, twenty-two eleven. Wow,” he exclaims, turning the bottle over in his hands to inspect the label further, “where did you get your hands on this?”

“It was a gift from Doctor McCoy.”

Whistling low, Jim gets to work opening the bottle. “I need to figure where he gets all this from.”

“His ways may not all be entirely legal.”

Jim laughs. “Of course not. But when have we ever been entirely by the book here? Want a glass, Spock?”

“Yes, please.”

They eat in comfortable silence, sharing one plate between them because Jim’s feeling sappy as fuck today. Anyway, everything’s vegetarian so there’s no worry of cross contamination.

“Y’know,” he says as he inspects a roll that looks like it contains Vulcan gespar, “I’ve never had a picnic before.”

Spock takes a slow sip of wine. “On some of the cooler mornings, my mother would have us eat breakfast in the gardens. However, I am not sure whether that could be considered a picnic.”

Jim shrugs. “Close enough.” The gespar roll is actually quite tasty, the tangy flavour of the fruit blending well with the coolness of cucumber and the creaminess of avocado. He picks up another and holds it up. Spock gives him a pointed look and a raised eyebrow, but ducks his head and takes it into his mouth.

“C’mon,” Jim says teasingly, “you can do better than that.”

Chewing slowly, Spock gives him the eyebrow again.

“Y’know, sexily.”

Spock swallows and Jim’s briefly tempted to draw his tongue across that green-tinged Adam’s apple. But then Spock says, “Please demonstrate,” and holds a piece of sushi to Jim’s lips.

“Like this,” says Jim with a wink. He leans forward and curls his tongue under the roll, making sure to brush it against the pads of Spock’s fingers. As he pulls the roll into his mouth, he makes certain to suck the tips of Spock’s fingers in along with it. Through his eyelashes, he sees a hint of green make its way up the tips of Spock’s ears. He releases the fingers, but not before giving each of them a good hard suck.

He quickly chews and swallows the sushi, barely paying attention to the flavour in favour of watching Spock bring his fingers to his own mouth, as though he’s trying to taste Jim on them.

“So what do you think?” he asks after swallowing and washing it down with a sip of wine.

“Your suggestion has some merit,” Spock says. He sounds a little hoarse.

“Happy New Year,” says Jim, and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

__

__**end**_ _


End file.
